


it's not your fault

by NebulaEdwards



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco goes back to school, Fluff, Idk if its minor or major, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, The Golden Trio also return, The gryffindors are dicks, ha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 07:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulaEdwards/pseuds/NebulaEdwards
Summary: Draco has a break down, Harry gives good hugs





	it's not your fault

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one shot I wrote about 40 minutes ago, and I actually an really proud of it!

Draco Malfoy was done.  
He staggered into his common room, and immediately fell onto one of the emerald velvet sofas. Moments later, that brown haired bastard walked through the door and hesitantly sat next to him.  
“What do you want, Potter?” Draco spat, staring at the wall. The old painting of the lake was slightly crooked and it was driving him mad.  
“I wanted to, erm, say... I’m sorry. About them. They don’t mean to be so...” Harry trailed off, following Draco’s gaze to the painting. He muttered something under his breath and the painting straightened.   
“So righteous? So noble? So rightfully angry at me?” Draco didn’t bother to cover up his anger. “Look, I get it, I’m not the best person here. I haven’t sacrificed my life to a cause, I ran away when things got tough, I know, but they don’t need to rub it in.”  
“It wasn’t your fault.”  
Draco couldn’t respond. He didn’t know how. Harry’s stupid Gryffindor mates had been telling him the exact opposite for the past hour, in their subtle ways. Since the war, they didn’t eat in houses anymore. There weren’t enough students to fill up the table, and they all felt safer together on two of the long tables. Even the teachers sat with them now, those that were left. Draco didn’t exactly have any friends, but Potter had invited him to sit with Weasley and the others, and he had. Barely ten minutes into dinner, they’d made it clear how they felt. Draco had brought Death Eaters into their home, he’d gotten their headmaster killed, and, worst of all, he’d let himself be dragged away by his mother and father.  
No one had stopped to ask him how he was coping. How he’d been dealing with his father’s arrest and murder whilst being transported to Azkaban, or his mother’s suicide shortly after. Within days, Draco had lost everything, and yet people still blamed him for the inevitable. Draco hadn’t bothered to finish his dinner, he stood up and left, trying not to cry.  
And yet here he was, curled up next to one of the people he had once hated most in the world. But, just like everything else, he wasn’t even sure of that anymore. Ever since Potter had saved his life in the Room of Requirement, Draco couldn’t stop thinking about him. In those moments, Draco was ready to die, felt he deserved to. But his worst enemy, the one person he had treated worse than anyone else, had decided he was worth risking his life for. It was absurd. Harry Potter, telling an ex death eater it wasn’t his fault. What would Draco’s mother think of him, if she were still alive?  
“What wasn’t, Potter?” He whispered, harshly. He felt Harry flinch slightly next to him, and regret flooded through him.  
“Your parents. The war. You leaving. All of it. You didn’t have a choice. No one called out the Ravenclaws who left. Some of the bravest people I know didn’t want to fight. It’s just because of your name. The Malfoy’s, they’re... They had a reputation. You can change that.” Harry spoke quietly, emphasising how empty the room was.  
Draco looked at him, trying in vain to find something to say. The tears that had been threatening to spill for weeks now fell. His chest ached as sobs racked through him. He felt Harry’s arms around him, pulling him into his chest. Unlike all those months before, where Harry had nearly killed him as he cried in a boys bathroom, Potter held him and rocked him back and forth, like his mother used to when he was a child. Thinking of his mother caused more tears to fall, and everything ached for her to come back to him, to hold him and tell him it was all right. But she was gone, and she was never coming back. Somehow that hurt more than everything else he had been through in his life. It hurt more than watching his family fight people he had once wanted to be his friends, hurt more than the Dark Lord’s rage when he had let Harry and his friends get away last year. All of those things felt like a bruise compared to this gaping wound in his soul. His mother was gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.  
Hands ran through Draco’s moon white hair, and he burrowed even closer into Harry’s stomach. He smelled like freshly cleaned sheets, and burnt wood. It was confusing, but Draco supposed Harry was one of those idiots who hung his uniform over the fire to dry out if it rained, when they could just spell it dry.   
Harry was inherently confusing. He had always been there, in a different way than he had been now. He was Draco’s only link to his past. Something about him made him lost and bewildered even then, and, as a child, that had angered him. But now he felt like he was coming home, finally.   
Harry shifted slightly, and Draco pulled away, but Harry’s arms remained tightly around him. He lay down on the sofa, pulling Draco with him. His breaths warmed Draco’s head, and he finally stopped crying. They lay there, tangled, anyway, with Draco listening to Harry’s heartbeat. It was frantic, but soon it began to slow, and his breathing evened out. Draco smiled slightly, and found himself drifting off too. He began to wonder what he was doing, lying on top of his worst enemy, someone many people still wanted dead, and letting him console him, when he stopped himself. No. Maybe once, Harry had been his enemy. But Draco was done with enemies. He had had too many and lost too much to fight anymore. For once, Draco was done with fighting.  
It was time he tried to fight for himself. For people like him, who had been forced by nothing other than the blood in their veins to fight for a cause they didn’t believe in. For the first time in a long time, Draco fell asleep, completely at ease.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay somewhat happy Draco!!   
> Follow me on Tumblr, @this_is_where_the_fangirl_hides (someone pls show me how to link things) for various crises and drarry quotes :))


End file.
